Something Formless and Void (Tao Te Ching 25)

25

There was something formless and void
before heaven and earth were born.
An unchanging unity.
Its perpetual energy courses through everything.
It’s like a battery that never runs low.

It’s the mother of everything that exists.
I do not know its name.
The best I can do is call it Tao.
You might call it magnificent.

The magnificent leads to the beyond.
The beyond points to the transcendent.
The transcendent returns back to the 
humble center of existence.

So, the Tao is sublime.
Heaven, earth, and humanity
are also sublime.
See how there are four sublime realities 
in the universe, and humanity
is included?

This is because, at their best,
men know how to create art 
out of material from this earth.
Meanwhile, life springs up from earth 
as it receives the blessings from heaven. 
Heaven’s wellspring is the Tao.
Behold: the Tao is its own fount. 

Reflection

In the Hebrew account of creation (Genesis 1:3), we come across a curious phrase: Tohu wa-bohu (תֹ֙הוּ֙ וָבֹ֔הוּ) which means “formless and void” or perhaps “invisible and shapeless.” The New International Version translates this as: “Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” The image of a loving, almost maternal incubation of the world is important since it contrasts starkly with a competing Babylonian myth, which we find in the Enuma Elish. The Babylonian version is at the root of Western civilization’s understanding of power and hierarchy, and contrasts both with the Hebrew worldview and also that of Lao Tzu. The latter two accounts celebrate the organic and natural origin of existence, while the Babylonian myth is about violence and domination.

In it, the God Marduk slays the feminine chaos deity named Tiamat, who is associated with the sea. The world we know derives from the parts of Tiamat’s body that Marduk chopped up. Western civilization that begins with Mesopotamia, therefore, is rooted in what the Tao Te Ching calls yang energy, patriarchal power, and enforcement of order. Nature is seen as a problem to be overcome rather than a power to be embraced and channeled. The philosopher of social science René Girard calls this the myth of primal violence. 

According to this way of thinking, while cruel tyrants might be painful and oppressive, they are a necessary evil. The alternative is bedlam and chaos. Tyranny, accordingly, is the only way to establish predictability and safety in a mad, mad world. 

Now, the only way for us to free our minds from this myth that leads to mental slavery is to follow the way of Abraham and the way of Lao Tzu. Both walked away from civilization for spiritual and ethical reasons. Lao Tzu was off to fish in the forest, Abraham took his family to live a semi-nomadic, pastoral life. For Abraham to stay in the city involved implicit idolatry. This is because, Near Eastern and Egyptian monarchs claimed to be descended from the gods. To live in a city was to buy into this power myth. To leave the safety of these idols, as Abraham did, was to step out in faith. In other words, “faith” for ancient Israelites wasn’t primarily about the belief that their tribal God existed; rather, it was about faith in the way of that God, which involved such things as justice for the poor, rest for animals, farmland, and workers, and periodic debt relief. Originally, Israelite society was rather anarchic (as during the time of Judges), though they eventually begged for kings like the pagan nations had. 

In this context, the image of the feminine Ruach or Spirit hovering over the surface of the unformed void is noticeably peaceful and organic amid civilizations that were warlike and artificial. We therefore included this allusion to the book of Genesis to highlight the political and societal implications of Tao Te Ching chapter 25.

Now, why should we trust in the Spirit or the Tao to keep things set right? Because, if we step back and behold the grand systems and habitats and climatological flows of our natural world, we find that trying to oppose those natural forces wastes a lot of energy. Meanwhile, drawing from the abundance of natural energy in the world can seem effortless. 

This is a key component of surfing the Tao then: making use of natural resources in natural ways. Surfing the Tao is like skiing down a slope, riding a wave, harnessing wind to sail, growing crops with the sun’s energy, or warming a home with geothermal heat. By humbly accepting the gifts of nature, the Sage can become a true artist and bring delight to the world.